


All Those Scattered Dreams

by quillsand



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, No Smut, Sharing a Bed, recovering from trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillsand/pseuds/quillsand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessica really needs to learn to let her guard down, something that's always been marginally easier with Trish around. Jessica feels at ease with Trish, comfortable, almost. Something that's prominently lacking in the rest of her relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Those Scattered Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I only discovered the Netfilx original series Jessica Jones a week or so ago, so this is my first time writing fic for it. Also I feel required to state that therefore it's based on the show, not the comics, which I have not read (but will do so soon, hopefully!) Hope you enjoy!

Jessica jolts awake. Her breaths come short and heavy and her eyes flicker around the unfamiliar room, adjusting to the dim light.

It takes another moment for her to realise where she is- Trish’s house, the spare room. She closes her eyes and throws her head back against the pillow, breathing deeply. _Just a dream_ , she thinks sardonically, _it was just a fucking dream._ She’s tired of dreaming.

At first, Jessica thinks Trish might not have heard her, but then she hears the shuffle of her friend’s footsteps down the hall. 

She sighs. “I’m fine, Trish.” she calls as soon as Trish appears in the doorway, all tired and disheveled, her hair falling out of the messy bun she’d tied it up in. With a slight pang, Jessica realises she’s probably not the only one of them who’s having trouble sleeping. 

Trish just tilts her head in that way of hers, and gives Jessica what she’s come to refer to as _‘the look’_. “You don’t sound fine.” she says, and means it sincerely, but Jessica hears it as a challenge.

“Yeah, well.” 

Trish shakes her head, pauses, and then walks up to the bed. “You don’t have to be strong all the time you know.” she says eventually, perching herself on the edge. 

“I don’t? You mean you’ve worked out a way to make me normal?” Jessica asks dryly, the corner of her mouth curving upwards into a slight smirk.

Trish sighs, although for a brief moment there’s a slight curve to her mouth, the tell-tale sign of trying to contain a smile. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Beside, you’re perfectly normal you just have a-” 

“A gift. Yeah, I get it.” 

“Jessica.” Trish admonishes gently, exasperated. She purses her lips. “I just think it would do you good to open up sometimes.”

Jessica can see that Trish is choosing her words carefully, but that doesn’t stop the frustration she feels at her friend. 

“You’re kidding. _’Open up’_? Jeez Trish! It’s been two days! I need some time first! Just let me sleep.” 

Jessica rolls over, her back to Trish. She really can’t be doing this right now. She’s tired and grumpy and it’s been _two days_ and she’s not ready to talk about it. (Maybe somewhere in he mind she recognises the fact that she’s just delaying the inevitable; that she’ll have to deal with it sooner or later, but she opts to ignore this.)

There’s a part of her that feels guilty for dismissing Trish’s concern, but the rest of her couldn’t really give a fuck. It’ll be just another thing to deal with in the morning.

It’s silent for a while, the only sounds being their combined breathing. Truth be told, Jessica’s moderately glad for the company. She’s constantly annoyed by Trish’s never ending persistence, but right now her presence is a reassuring fact, a certainty. It feels almost nice.

Until Trish starts crying, that is. 

Jessica detects the change in the speed of her friend’s breathing, falling out of time from her own. Her first instinct is to get up and leave, give Trish some space, but something tells her that’s not the right thing to do. 

“Trish,” Jessica groans, dragging out the last syllable and pulling herself up into a sitting position. “Don’t do that. C’mon, you know I’m not good at this.” she says, although her voice is soft when she speaks.

“Sorry,” Trish says, wiping her eye on her frayed pyjama sleeve, “I just keep thinking about him, and how horrible it was, and how it’s nothing compared to what you went through for all those months-”

“Woah,” Jessica interrupts firmly, “Woah. Stop it. I’m not letting you do this to yourself, Trish. You don’t have to have been through what I did to feel sad about it. That’s stupid.”

Trish laughs, but it’s a bitter laugh that sounds strange coming out of her mouth. 

“How do you cope?” she asks then, quietly.

Jessica gives her a wry smile, “Whiskey, mainly.”

Trish rolls her eyes and Jessica watches as they fill up with tears again. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising!” Jessica says but it comes out harsher than she’d meant it to and she lowers her voice again, “I’m the one who should be sorry, I let him control you.” She admits, the guilt she’s been feeling in the pit of her stomach for days threatening to rise up and choke her.

“Jessica. Listen to me,” Trish turns around so she’s facing Jessica, and reaches out, placing her hand on Jessica’s knee. Jessica is just about to rebut with a ‘spare me the lecture’ or something as equally snarky, but she holds it in. Something in Trish’s eyes makes her hold it in. “It’s not your fault, okay? Besides, what other choice did you have? You saved me. You saved _everyone_.”

“Well then I’m a shitty hero.” She says, wanting nothing more than to forget they’re having this conversation and go back to bed. She’s too tired to keep her guard up right now (Plus, it’s Trish, and Trish has always been god at catching Jessica with her guard down. Or maybe Jessica lets it down specifically for Trish, she’s not sure. Maybe there’s not that much of a difference.)

There’s a pause, and Jessica can practically hear all that’s been let unsaid suffocating them in the silence. “You wouldn’t have had to save me if I’d not lost the headphones anyway.” Trish says, and her hand is gone from Jessica’s knee. Jessica frowns, the spot where Trish’s hand had rested now cold.

“We knew there was a chance of that when we went in.” Jessica starts, because it’s true, but there’s a part of her that’s angry (irrationally angry) at Trish for trying to blame herself for this. Jessica’s not an idiot. She knows what Trish is doing, whether Trish knows it or not- she’s trying to take on the guilt so that she, Jessica, won’t have to. “You know as well as I do that Kilgrave would’ve just controlled someone to take them off of you anyway. He might’ve even told me to, and then we’d have been really fucked.”

Jessica looks at Trish, who still seems unconvinced, her damp eyes not meeting Jessica’s own. “Fine. Look, Trish look at me.” Trish does, albeit reluctantly. “It’s not my fault. Okay? There. It’s not my fault, but it’s not yours either. Say it.”

Trish looks down at the floral pattern on the bedsheets, and then back up at Jessica, who raises her eyebrows expectantly, “It’s not my fault.” She says slowly. Jessica nods, satisfied.

“See? How easy was that.” 

Trish laughs. Wipes her eyes. Laughs again. “I came in here to make _you_ feel better, not the other way around.”

“Just don’t expect this from me every night.” 

“Definitely not.” Trish shakes her head, more wisps of her falling out to frame her elegant face. She opens her mouth to say something else, but closes it again, abruptly. Jessica frowns, bemused.

“What is it?” she prompts, not unkindly.

“Oh, it’s uh... It's nothing. Really.” Trish tries to dismiss it, waving a hand as if she’s trying to make Jessica’s concern disappear.

“No, it’s something.” 

Trish stops, deliberating. Jessica can see she’s won when Trish sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I just wondered… If I could stay here tonight?” 

Jessica’s expecting her to elaborate, maybe ramble some, but Trish stays silently staring at her knees. Jessica smiles, and this time it’s a real smile. “Be my guest.” she announces, throwing the covers back and shuffling over to make room for Trish.

Trish blinks, shrugs, and climbs into the bed, adjusting the covers over them both.

Jessica feels at ease with Trish, something that’s lacking in her relationship with anyone else. She likes the time she spends in Trish’s company, the smell of her expensive perfume and somehow infinitely perfect appearance. Both things that are imminently obvious as they lie next to each other.

They sleep like that, Trish’s pyjama clad thigh pressed up against Jessica’s bare one, even though the bed is big enough for them to lay at opposite ends and not touch. The contact feels good, Jessica decides. Trish’s presence makes her feel safe, in a way that she hasn’t done since Luke. She’s grateful for it, for Trish. 

Maybe one day she’ll actually be able to _tell_ Trish just how grateful she is.


End file.
